on some days
I'm a piece of sandpaper -
rubbed and rubbed
until I'm raw and stinging,
until there's almost nothing left.

but there's a little corner
that doesn't sting,
that renews my hope,
that heals every part of me
until I'm whole again.

I wish I could breathe
Your words are crushing
Stop lying
Saying you were loving me
Some sort of love story
you've thought up in your head.
Darling you just hurt me,
soon I'll be dead.
My lungs are crippling,
crumbling like paper
Little tiny rips
in my skin with sandpaper
breaking me apart
so very slowly
this isn't love
I can tell,
because I'm so lonely.

every day the same
getting so accustomed to the mundane
engaged to the repetition

starting each day optimistic
and slowly remembering the sandpaper numbness
everything is the ******* same

reoccurrence- this deja vu
i feel like this has happened before
the past feeling like a foggy memory
i cant remember

ending the day exhausted
run out of steam
cant even pick up my head
my structure cracking from the weight
feels like my body might just give out
fold into a million pieces
and land on the ground
a perfect pile of skin and bone